I listen to their voices as they herald their morning choruses. Songs of faith. Melodies written in antiquity, yet music still breathing the living witness of God.
I hear them recite their morning verses. Words of faith. Scripture written in antiquity, yet truth still breathing the living witness of God.
My children are working their faith through with the help of our homeschool curriculum. What joy to hear these sounds again! Something about the rocks crying out resonates in my spirit. What I have forgotten to do … what I have often chosen not to do resurfaces in my son and daughter. This is good habit. This is music to my soul.
And my mind wanders across the sea to others who are doing the same—heralding their morning choruses and reciting their morning verses, despite great persecution. My brothers and sisters in Christ living out their faith on the front-lines in Egypt. This is when it counts for them—when faith works itself out in their flesh … literally. The surrenders being made there cannot be measured by statistics. Not really. Instead, this kind of surrender can only be measured by the heart.
True worship. Authentic praise. Unparalleled obedience. Unwavering trust. Faith on the front-lines of the battlefield named Persecution.
This is the life of a Christian in Egypt today. Great strain coupled with great faith.
Is this the life of a Christian in rural North Carolina today? Is there anything great about the strain and faith in my life? Is there anything great about yours?
Each and every day we wake up to the battlefield named Life. Accordingly, we have some choices to make.
How will we worship?
How will we praise?
How will we obey?
How will we trust?
If our faith was placed on the front-lines of the battlefield named Persecution, how would we stand?
I’m thinking there’s a great deal more to this suffering than my mind can comprehend, a lot of refining attached to hard choices made on the front-lines and in the face of certain, painful consequences.
Perhaps, this is when faith shines brightest. My brothers and sisters in Egypt may not be able to see the light from where they’re standing today, but I see their flame from where I’m crouching in rural North Carolina. Their candles burn brightly; their faith shines surely. Certainly, it is enough to strengthen weak hands, fortify feeble knees, and straighten the paths that our faith is living upon this day (Heb. 12:10-13).
Songs of faith. Words of faith. Antiquity made new again in my heart this morning. Here on the battlefield named Life. There on the battlefield named Persecution. Faith lived in between and among us.
From rural North Carolina across the sea to Egypt and everywhere along the way, light the candle of faith, friends. Keep it burning. We need one another. As always …
Peace for the journey,
